I work in a sales-driven call center; whether or not we want to admit it, we’re all ferociously competitive, and during our down time, we like to aggravate the hell out of each other. Today, I was shooting hoops with a couple of people when I got clowned—hard—about my inability to maintain a relationship (let’s call it what it is, shall we?). From what I posted on Facebook, I appeared to fall hard and get dumped rather quickly (again, let’s call it what it is). I wondered where he got his story from; he knew nothing of the five (six?)-year history I had with my ex. He promptly replied; “That’s what you get for putting your life on blast on Facebook.”
Whoa. Talk about an eye-opener. I didn’t even know he read my facebook.
Earlier today, I was following up on a job interview I’d had last week and learned that one of the reasons why he’d been apprehensive about me was because I’d shut down when he asked me about my past. I had mentioned everything he’d find on background report—he had a right to know that—but I very rarely discuss details. As far as I’m concerned, the past begins five years ago when I left Michigan.
Problem is I’m also a writer aiming at bestseller status (or at least worldwide recognition); part of the reason why I don’t blog that much is because nothing really noteworthy happens to me anymore (Thank you GOD!). Sure, I can tell you how I sold five internets today and only one of them will post, or I can rant and rave about how my job drives me crazy, but in an economy where everyone is struggling for work, bitching about your job gets old quick. So I blog about my writing, and what little I can find around there that interests me (which is why you’ve seen so many film and game reviews lately). Hell, I’m just not that interesting anymore, and I enjoy it. I like my nice, normal, boring life.
Despite the considerable amount of time I spend social networking, I’m actually a very private person; for every detail I put on Facebook, there’s a hundred I’m keeping to myself. I do not like a world of people knowing the most intimate details of my life. Hell, I’m barely comfortable with some people knowing my middle name. Things like the past, what I did before I landed in Missouri, those are all but off-limits. I don’t think anyone needs to know that, and to be completely honest, I do worry how people would look at me if they knew everything.
What I encountered today made me wonder if it was just me. It’s not that I have something to hide; I just don’t feel that my past is anyone else’s business unless I choose to share it. Anyone who’s in promotion, or anyone who’s had to turn their lives completely around, how do you deal with it? How do you decide who to tell, what to tell them, and how much?
Thanks for reading.
(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC
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